Okon bids Mandela goodbye

It was early morning. Snooper had been groggy with sleep. The wild carousal in the village was finally taking its belated toll. A historic hangover ruled the cranial roost. As a freak rain clattered and pounded the aluminium roof, Snooper coiled up in bed like a mamba, waiting for whoever would be foolish enough to knock the door. Suddenly, all hell was let loose as Okon barged in, frantic and panting with excitement.

“What?” Snooper screamed and jumped out of bed to switch on the television. There indeed an iconic cameo of humanity was unfolding. A million dancing feet were converging on Mandela’s residence. It was a modern epic of grief and celebration of a life lived truly and totally at the behest of the people. Snooper was close to tears. A few days after, Okon came in again, this time dressed like a traditional chieftain from the South South with resource control cap to match.

“And where is Etubom Okon coming from this time?” Snooper sneered.

“Oga I dey come from dem South African Embarrassy” the crazy one retorted.

“I see. Is it riffraff like you that they want there?” Snooper asked trying to suppress his mirth.

“Oga, dis one no be time for big grammar. Dem Rufai dey there and dem Rafiu boku for dem place. He get one old Yoruba politician who dey cry say him papa don die, so I tell am say if him no clear for Okon, I go beat am silly. Dem Naija leaders no get shame at all. If dem Mandela be Naija man dem for don kill am for Kirikiri long time. You no see how dem Mandela people come put Jonathan for dem small corner? Na African proverb be dat”, the boy ranted.

“Okon, so what did you put in the register?” Snooper cautiously enquired.

“Ha, ha, I tell Baba Mandela, make him go well. He don try him best, But I tell am say if suffer no whack am enough, when he dey come back make him come back as dem black man. Dis time suffer go whack am well well. Dem Oyinbo people go jail am again and dis time him go kaput for jail..”